Darling
by LillyLilly
Summary: Picks up where "Killer App" (S3E13) left off. Cal & Gillian. Multi-chap.
1. Prelude

I came across this show a couple of months ago and fell in love with these two characters. Long story short, this plus my borderline obsessive need for closure resulted in a fic that just had to be written.  
A reader's opinion is always appreciated.

Oh, and I apologize for the language, but this chapter is from Cal's POV after all. ;)

* * *

"_Gillian. Do you love her?"_

"_Of course I do, darlin'. Of course I love her."_

"_No, I mean… really love her."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Then what are you waiting for?"_

* * *

The proverbial "right time" had long come and gone. And now… well, he had fucked up so much over the last few months there was _no way in hell_ she would even entertain the possibility of something more than friendship between them.

Her walls were up and high, and not just to keep him from getting too close to personal things she'd rather not share, but to keep him from getting too close _period_.

He had pushed too hard and the invisible string that held them together had broken, leaving them close but no longer connected. Sure, the smiles were there. The playful banter. But they were now a conscious, careful effort instead of their natural synchronicity.

He had thought that was gone for good. And then Claire had died. And then she had called him. Not only because his skills would be useful to help catch the killer, but because whether she wanted it or not, he was still the one she trusted to hold her and keep her from falling apart.

"_And then I called you."_

It was there in her voice and on her face.

And as he recalled that moment, he pondered that her friend's death had put a crack on the wall, leaving him with two choices: break his way through it and repair the damage he had done, so that maybe, _maybe_ one day they would be ready to take the gamble of all gambles; or he could choose the easy way out and just let the chips fall where they may.

_Gambling analogies. That's rich, Cal._

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 1

Quick reply to the reviews:

**GCRessa66** – Thank you so much! I miss the show also and I hope you enjoy this chapter too! :)

**girlintheyankeeshat** – Thank you! And it took me a good long while to find the last word for that sentence. I'm glad it translated well!

**L'ange demoniaque** - Thank you! I will! ;)

* * *

Several minutes had passed since he had parked the car, but he made no move to get out. His right hand grasping the wheel, his left rubbing his face, as if trying to erase any signs that would betray the cacophony going on inside his head as his thoughts wrestled one another.

Sitting on his sofa that night he had decided to wait until Sunday to do it. A Sunday would be poetic.

He snorted, the sound sharp as it broke the silence. _Like he gave a damn about crap like that_.

Truth was, he needed a few days to gather his courage. _And rehearse a bloody hundred times what he was going to say_. He still wasn't satisfied, though. He found the words lacking in depth, not fully articulating the message he needed to convey.

Briskly shaking his head, he opened the door, stepped out of his car and closed it again, all in one fluid motion. _Let's quit the internal whining, shall we?_

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started towards her house.

* * *

It took only a few seconds before he heard her turn the lock and open the door. Her hair up, a few strands hanging loosely, framing her face. She looked very much like she had done the time he had dropped by after spending the day with a gun pointed at his head by Eric Matheson. Only now her expression showed surprise once she registered who it was.

"Cal? Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, darlin'. Everythin's fine." Pause. "You busy?"

"No." She said softly as she stepped back, wordlessly inviting him to come in.

He bounced on the balls of his feet but didn't move. He then turned his head in what was supposed to be the general direction of his car, quickly turning it back as he realized the unintentional action was a sign of nervousness. _She caught that_.  
He spoke instantly, not wanting to give her a chance to process it.

"Actually, I was wanderin' if you'd come somewhere with me."

"Somewhere?" She inquired, one eyebrow slightly raised with suspicion.

"Yup." Flashing his best 'innocent, only not at all' smile, he stared at her, not elaborating.

Breathing a small sigh, she replied: "Ok. Give me a second to change and…"

"No need." He interrupted. "Just put on some shoes and you're good to go."

"Cal…" She was wearing a light pink, long-sleeved top, and what seemed to be, if he recalled correctly from his daughter's patient lecture during one of their 'father-daughter-shopping-days', black ballerina pants.

"Trust me, will ya?" Moving a step closer to her, he tilted his head to the side, locking his eyes with hers.

A small smile tugging at her lips, she went inside leaving the door open.

Shifting his weight, he leaned on the doorframe, waiting for her to come back and taking the opportunity to examine her living room. _When have I last been here? Must have been months ago._ It looked pretty much the same. Bright, giving out a feeling of warmth and serenity. _Very much like its owner_. A smile had found its way to his face.

"I'm ready!" She said, with a smile of her own. _She caught that too._

He guided her to his car, one hand on the small of her back.

_Trust me, darling'. You look just gorgeus._


	3. Chapter 2

**This is a longer chapter, and originally, in my head, the story started here. The previous two I ended up writing as more of an introduction. Let me know what you think of it!**

* * *

He was fighting the urge to look at her and see if she had already figured it out where they were going. The ride so far had been silent. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. She had rolled down the window and seemed content with watching the buildings and people as they glided by, the warm afternoon breeze caressing her face. The past few minutes had been almost peaceful, and he had felt himself relax a little for the first time since he had woken up that morning.

Suddenly he sensed her moving, straightening in her seat. _There_. Finally allowing himself to turn his head, the emotion on her face was clear: _apprehension_. Feeling his gaze she looked back at him. Her brow furrowed, she swallowed, eyes quickly shifting down and away.

With an effort he focused his attention back on the road. Now that she knew their destination, there was no mistake this was to be the day for a long overdue conversation. He knew it hadn`t been fair not to give her any warning, not giving her a chance to prepare for it. But had he done that, she would have had her words ready, and he was sure they would cut him, deep enough to form a lump in his throat, choking what he needed to say.

He felt a cold wave go through his body, adrenaline kicking in, as he parked the car. Still silent, they both unbuckled their seat belts and stepped out into the street. Without looking at him, she started walking.

* * *

They arrived at the bridge ten minutes later. The place was quiet, with trees on one side and a wide landscape view of the city on the other. A few, scattered people walked on the road stretching away from the bridge's either end.

She walked up to the rail, placing both her hands upon the stone and looking into the distance. He stood a few feet away, studying her profile. The sunlight caught in her hair and turned the brown into gold. The angles of her face forming a harmonious shape, eyes clear blue. _Stunning._

Moving forward, he stopped at her side, resisting the urge to reach out his hand and touch her. He took a breath before speaking, making sure his voice was soft but steady.

"Gill."

She turned to look at him. The apprehension was gone, replaced by sadness.

"Do ya remember what I said to ya here, that Sunday, eight years ago?"

Her gaze drifted to somewhere far away. Her eyes reflected the images that flashed behind his own. After a few seconds she spoke, her voice low and serious.

"You said... you were done with the Pentagon. More than exposing lies, your purpose was to uncover the truth, and so you would create a job that allowed you to do that." She paused for a moment. "You said that although you could easily spot a lie, you needed someone to help you at finding the reasons behind it that would lead to the truth. And you thought I was the perfect person for that."

He stayed silent, eyes never leaving hers, waiting to speak until she looked back at him.

"I told ya I wanted to do somethin' that hadn't been done before. Somethin' that would change the rules of the game, make a difference." He took a tiny step closer. "And I told you I knew it was risky, and daring, and probably a bit crazy... but that if you agreed, if you chose to do this with me, I promised it would be the most fantastic journey of your life."

The energy field between them had shifted, pushing the rest of the world away while magnifying the force that held them close.

"And," he said slowly, dropping the mask that made him unreadable, "lately, I haven`t kept my end of that bargain."

* * *

He watched as the hurt began to surface and she began the fight to keep her emotions under control. He stepped even closer, leaving little more than a foot between them.

"I'm sorry, Gill." All his effort was now on making sure his face showed the feeling behind his words. "I'm sorry for every time I lashed out for whatever reason, dismissing the fact that ya did not deserve to be on the receivin' end. For the times I acted as though our partnership and our friendship were a matter of lesser importance. And for the times when I should have apologized but I didn't."

Her tears were falling freely now. He caught the hand she had moved to wipe them as it came down from her face, holding it between his own.

"Ya need to know... that despite every asshole move I make, there isn't a day that I am not grateful to have ya by my side. Wherever I'd be without ya, I'd be a hell of a lot worse. So thank you, Gillian. For everythin'"

He fell silent for a moment, letting his words to sink in and giving her a chance to steady her breathing. He found he couldn't read her, his brain spent. Still holding her hand, he voiced the thought that had been burning him from the inside.

"The question now is, darlin'... do ya have it in ya to give me a second chance to make good on my promise?"

Holding his breath, he waited for the answer.

Slowly her eyes found his and she opened her mouth, but no words came out.


	4. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! I hope you like this chapter too!**

* * *

From the whirlwind of emotions, there was one which was stronger, keeping the others at bay: _shock_.

Whatever she had expected this moment to be like, this had never been it. Cal didn't do speeches. He didn't do confessions. Not with words. Instead, he would let his guard down for her to read on his face what he needed her to know. And in those moments, more than anything else, he was "telling" her "I trust you".

So she had expected him to stop at _"I'm sorry"_. She had expected him to leave it up to her to look in his eyes and acknowledge that the apology was sincere, which he knew she would. And then she expected him to consider the matter closed. This had been their routine for eight years now.

But he had kept speaking, and she wasn't prepared for that. The words, his completely unguarded expression, the warm hands enveloping hers, it was too much all at once and she was drowning.

This moment was not about him trusting her, but her being able to trust him. It wasn't about what _he_ needed her to know, but what _she_ needed to know. Finally, it wasn't a step on a path to which they both know the end. _"Do ya have it in ya to give me a second chance to make good on my promise?"_ He wasn't taking the outcome for granted this time. This time forgiveness would be a choice. _My choice_.

* * *

She looked at him and saw the fear. His eyes flickering incessantly, scanning her face for the answer. _He can't read me_.

She opened her mouth but couldn't find her voice. It was as if her lungs had no air to spare and produce the sounds. She watched as fear turned to panic, and then to misery. He let go of her hand and began to move back.

_No._

Panic came as a wave, washing away everything else in a split second, clearing the way for instinct to take over.

Before he finished the step her hand grabbed his jacket and she pulled herself forward, closing the space between them. Her arms found their way around his neck, and she hugged him tight. Less than a heartbeat later she felt his arms close around her, pulling her even closer.

The storm was still raging inside her. The emotions still piling on top of each other, the tears still falling. But she could breathe now. _Safe_. She wasn't drowning anymore.

* * *

They stood there holding each other for a long time. The sun was setting quickly, painting the sky with orange stokes and wakening shadows in every corner. The wind was now chilly, making her shiver in his embrace.

She felt him turn his head and kiss her temple before loosening his hold on her. She stepped back, lowering her hands to his chest at the same time his own rubbed her upper arms, trying to warm her and keeping her close.

She looked up at him, her eyes tracing the lines on the face she knew so well. They were carved on his forehead, the corner of his eyes... _Oh._ They were almost gone now, but still visible on his cheeks, the streaks of tears. She didn't think she had ever seen him shed any. Cupping his face with her hand she erased what remained of their path with her thumb.

"I'm trusting you."

He simply nodded, holding her gaze, his eyes showing that he understood. Suddenly the sound of his cellphone broke the silence, and they broke contact as he fumbled to retrieve it from his pocket. Looking at the screen, he said: "It's Emily."

She smiled, signaling it was ok for him to answer. As he did, she turned around and looked over the rail. It was almost dark now, and the city lights shone bright in the distance. The wind carried his voice to her ears, and she closed her eyes, finding comfort in the sound.

"Hey, luv."

"Hey, Dad."

She could hear the girl's voice through the phone.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, darling', I'm fine, and ya?"

"Fine. You coming home for dinner?"

"Yeah, I'll be there soon."

"Where are you?"

"I uh..."

She heard him pause.

"I am looking at the most gorgeous view."

She opened her eyes, feeling the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile.

"Hum... Good. Invite Gill over!"

"What?!"

Her smile broadened even more at Emily's intuition and her father's baffled reaction.

"Gillian. Invite her over for dinner."

"Oi! Have ya hired someone to follow me around?"

"Yeah, Dad. That's it. I'll see you both soon."

She heard him sigh and flick the phone shut. A moment later he was on her side, the warmth of his body pushing away the cold night air. She looked at him.

"So..." He said, hesitantly. "Fancy some dinner?"

It was her turn to just nod, the smile still on her face.

He offered his arm to her. She hooked it with her own, and they began to walk back towards the car.


	5. Chapter 4

**This is a light/fun chapter. I hope it works! You let me know! :)**

* * *

3 days later

Wednesday. Short version: _Paperwork_. Long version: _Heavy, mind-numbingly boring, endless paperwork. Nine straight hours of it._

She kneaded her neck with her fingers, trying to relieve the stiffness. Soft popping sounds informed her that the water had begun to boil. Opening her eyes she went to the cupboard and grabbed a mug that said: "Shortest Horror Story Ever: Monday." It wasn't accurate, but the general sentiment was fitting to her mood.

Setting it on the counter with one hand, she shut off the burner on the stove with the other. She then placed the tea sachet inside the mug and poured the water over it. Tea wasn't usually her beverage of choice after a hard day. That would be cocoa. _Hell_, hard day or not she always chose cocoa. But she had already had a giant piece of chocolate cake for dessert earlier. _High point of my day, by the way._

She had been staring blankly at the junction between two tiles on the floor when her brain registered something was making a noise in the background. _Phone_.

She followed the sound to her purse in the living room and started rummaging through it, more than half wishing the person calling would give up before she could find the object.  
_Damn_.  
"Hello?"

* * *

"Gillian Foster! _Do ya ever wind up flirtin' with your friends' boyfriends?_"

"What?!"

"_A) Occasionally, but it's all in good fun, and you're careful not to overdo it. B) Sure, ya get a rush from toyin' with them... and their button flies. C)_"

"Cal! What on earth are you saying?"

"_C)_" He proceeded, ignoring her. "_Nope, that would be violatin' rule number 8 of the Girl Code of Ethics._" He paused. "What the bloody hell is rule number 8 of the Girl Code of Ethics?"

"I..."

"No, let me rephrase that. What the bloody hell is the Girl Code of Ethics?"

"I have no idea."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But ya are a girl!"

"Why _thank you for noticing_, Cal." If sarcasm could kill this conversation would be over.

"Oi! No need to get all snarky at me! I didn't write it!"

"Write what?"

"The question!"

"What question?" She could feel a migraine starting.

"What do ya mean, 'what question'? The one I've just asked ya!"

"Cal..." She walked towards the couch and sat down. She made herself take a deep breath before speaking, saying the words slowly, in an effort to keep her tone neutral. "I am tired. _So very tired_. I've spent the whole day catching up with last month's late paperwork. As a result, your partner is now cross-eyed and hunchbacked. And you know what?" It was a rhetorical question. "Tomorrow I get to do it all over again with this month's paperwork!" Her pitch was a good two times higher now. "So, _if_ you have a reasonable question you want to ask me, just do it. If not, _please_ have mercy on your best friend's soul and let her drink a cup of tea in peace!"

Having not taken a breath during the last part of her speech, she had to gasp a few times after she finished to recover some oxygen. He probably needed time to recover as well, because it was a moment before he spoke again.

"I've done it already."

_Oh God, why? Why?_

"That was not a reasonable question, Cal!"

"No, not that!" He interjected quickly. "The paperwork. I did it on Monday."

"You... what?!"

"No need to sound so surprised! I've done paperwork before."

"When was that?"

"In the last..."

"Decade?"

"You wound me, Foster. I'm sure it hasn't been that long... Nine years, tops."

She smiled despite herself. "Pictures or it didn't happen."

She knew he was smiling too, and they fell silent for a short while.

"Thank you, Cal."

"No need to thank me, darlin'. I might have given some of it to Loker when he wouldn't shut up about gorillas or some other hairy primates. Worked like a charm! Didn't hear from the bugger for the rest of the day. So it was kinda like a favor to me, if ya think about it."

That was a lie. She would have known if Cal had given Loker paperwork. There was no way she wouldn't have heard the young man bitch about it if it had been the case.  
This was Cal pretending he wasn't really doing a nice thing when that was exactly what it was. _He's trying. For me._ The thought warmed her heart and she felt a giant urge to hug him.

"Well, thanks anyway." She said softly. "So, what were you reading before?"

"It's a quiz!" He sounded suddenly very excited. "It's called 'Do ya have a bad girl's side?'"

"What?!" She asked, half incredulous half laughing. "_Where_ are you reading this from?"

"Cosmopolitan. Found it in the kitchen." She could picture his face scrunching up with disgust. "I swear, I shall never again give my daughter money if this is what she buys with it."

"Don't be so grumpy, Cal. It's harmless." She said, still laughing. "What was the first question again?"

"Oi! Look who's suddenly interested!"

She grabbed a cushion and settled it on her lap, curling her feet beneath her.

"Just read me the question, please."

"Since ya asked so nicely…" He recited the question and the alternatives again.

"Hum… take out the whole Girl Code crap and I'd say C."

"That's a shame."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind you toyin' with my button flies, eh?" She swore she could hear his eyebrows wiggling.

"I don't know, Cal… I wasn't friends with Zoe, nor with any girlfriend you've ever had, so I don't think B would really apply to you." Her tone was teasing.

"Aren't ya taking all the fun out of this for me!"

"What's the next question?"

"_How often do you play hooky from work? A) Once in a blue moon, when a fun opportunity pops up. B) At least twice a month. C) Never, ya'd be too paranoid. _Not really a hard one, eh, darlin'? Paranoia it is."

"Actually, I'd say A."

"WHAT?!"

"_No need to sound so surprised!_" She mimicked him. "It does say once in a blue moon…"

"When did ya play hooky?! And how did I not know about this?!"

"Last time it was right after my divorce, I think." She added: "And I _am_ my own boss, so it was more me deciding to give myself a day off than actually playing hooky."

"Where did ya go?"

"Spa." He waited for her to elaborate. Instead she asked: "Next question?"

"Fine. I'll let you off the hook this time…" His voice assumed a tone she knew oh-so-well and that meant one thing: _trouble_. "But only because this next one is my favorite: _The naughtiest move you made on a first date was: A) Stealing some of his dessert. B) Passionately kissing in public. C) Handing him your underwear. _Well, luv, I know ya've done A and B… but what about C?"

_Oh God._ She _could_ lie… Not that she was really embarrassed about it, but she didn't want to give him any ammunition to tease her either. Would he know that she was lying? _No_. He wouldn't be able to tell over the phone. _But there's no way he's not bringing it up tomorrow_.

"Oi! Too many memories come to mind?" He was being smug now.

Sighing, she opted for the truth: "I didn't really _hand_ it to him… he kind of just… kept it."

There were several seconds of silence.

"Well, that… ya are _definitely_ a bad girl, Doctor Foster!"

"Is the quiz over? That's the result?" She asked in an attempt to prevent him from exploring that train of thought.

"Nah. There's more. But I'm right, regardless. You'll see. Next question! _It's a company party, ya've had a few drinks, and your hot boss is lookin' good. You: A) Coyly compliment his outfit. B) Stay on the other side of the room. C) Whisper 'I may be younger, but I bet I'd teach you things in bed'._"

"You made this one up!"

"No, I didn't! Why would I do that?"

"Cal…"

"Ya have just said ya were your own boss! So I ask ya, why would I make this question up?"

"Fine. B."

"I'm sorry, did ya say C?"

"_B_, Cal."

"Riiiiiiight." He said, dragging the word deliberately. "Last question! _Fill in the blank: Rules are made to be _. A) Broken like champagne flutes. B) Bent, depending on the situation. C) Followed to a tee._"

"B."

"Well, let's see then!" He hummed a tune she didn't recognize while computing her answers. Finally he announced: "Gillian Foster, you are a _Slightly Sinful Femme: 'Ya know how to let loose and live in the moment, but ya always weight out the consequences before actin' says Nancy Rosenbach, PhD, a clinical psychologist in New York City and Long Island. 'Ya know that it can be even more enjoyable to be slightly bad and savor it, rather than being full-blown naughty and suffer for it', says Tracy Cox, author of Superdate. _What a load of bollocks!"

She laughed out loud. "I think it is surprisingly accurate."

"Bah."

"Why do you want me to be a bad girl so much?"

The long pause before he answered made her think there was more to it than what he chose to say, even if his tone was playful.

"Cause it makes the fantasies a whole lot more fun that way."

Luckily, a voice in the background spared her having to come up with a reply for that.

"_Da-ad! I'm home!"_

"Hey, luv! I'm here!" He shouted, and she pulled the phone away as a reflex to the change in volume.

"Ouch!" She said pointedly.

"Oops, sorry, darlin'!"

"_Sorry for what?" _The girl's voice sounded closer now.

"Not ya, luv. I'm on the phone."

"_Oh! Sorry!"_

"It's fine. It's just Gillian."

"Hey!" She protested, faking grave offense.

"Didn't mean it like that, luv."

"Uh-hu. I'll let you catch up with your daughter. Say hello to her for me."

"Gill says hi."

"_Hi, Gill!"_

"She says hi back."

"I heard. I'll see you tomorrow, Cal."

"See ya tomorrow, darlin'. Have a good night."

"Cal?" She added softly before he hung up.

"Yeah, luv?"

"Thank you."

* * *

She pressed a hand to her ear and found it was warmer than her phone. How long had they been talking? She got up and walked into the kitchen, suddenly remembering the mug of tea she had left on the counter. It had gone cold, and since she didn't feel like drinking it anymore, she just dumped the liquid down the sink's drain.

Her neck was still stiff and her eyes were still having trouble focusing due to the strain of her having spent the day reading.

But it seemed like the giant piece of chocolate cake turned out not to be the high point of her day after all.

* * *

**The quiz is real and from Cosmopolitan . com . I left out a few questions though and chose the funnier ones.**


	6. Chapter 5

**First and foremost: thank you so much for all the kind reviews! They're really appreciated!**

**I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for the update! **

**This and the next two chapters function as an episode of the show. The intention behind the story continues to be to show Cal&Gillian's relationship evolving.  
I'm really not sure how it turned out. I hope you like it!**

* * *

1 month later

"Good mornin', darlin'!" He greeted as he stepped into her office.

"Good morning!" She replied with a bright smile.

Getting up from her chair, she grabbed one of the two tall paper cups placed in front of her and proceeded to make her way around the desk.

She was wearing a dark crimson dress, with an off-shoulder neckline that exposed her collarbone and a hemline that ended just below the knee. Black heels that made her long legs look like they went on forever completed the picture.

"Here." She extended the cup to him, making his eyes snap back up to her face.

"Thanks, luv." He took the drink with one hand while the other found its way around her waist, pulling her closer. He planted a kiss on her cheek, mindful not to spill the hot beverage and making this an excuse to let his lips linger on her skin a beat longer.

"Ya know… ya should not be stepping out on the street to get coffee looking like that." He gave her a pointed look.

"Why? What's wrong with my look?" She asked in confusion, looking down at herself and searching for the problem.

"Ya're a safety hazard! How many innocent fellas crashed their cars cause they got distracted starin' at ya strollin' around in that dress?"

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder, one corner of her mouth turning up into a smile.

"You could always just tell me I look nice, Cal." She said, walking back towards her desk to grab her own cup.

"Thought I just did." He smiled back at her before taking a sip of his drink.

* * *

There was a knock on the glass and they both turned to see Loker poking his head through a crack in the door.

"Hey! We've just got a case and the client requested that you be the one to handle it." The young man said, looking at Cal.

"Did he now?"

"_She_ did, yes. She says she wants the best."

"What is the case about, Eli?" Gillian interjected.

"The client is a fifty-seven year old Mrs. Melissa Goldstein, whose son, Carl Goldstein Jr., twenty-nine, was found stabbed to death in a bar's restroom last Thursday." Loker explained as he entered the office, handing Cal the case file. "The police investigation is ongoing and no arrests have been made. The mother is convinced the murderer is twenty-three year old Tom Harper, the victim's half-brother. She wants us to help prove he's guilty."

"I'm guessing she's not the parent the boys have in common." Cal said in an amused tone.

"No. Harper is Goldstein Sr.'s son, but neither Mrs. Goldstein nor Carl and his younger sister knew that he existed until two months ago. Her husband suffered from lung cancer and confessed on his deathbed that he'd had an affair twenty-three years ago. The woman got pregnant, but he refused to assume any responsibility for the baby, afraid it would destroy his family and his reputation. He was a wealthy man and offered Miss Harper a lot of money to keep her quiet. She rejected his offer, saying she would raise the boy by herself and that he needed not worry, she would never tell their son who his asshole of a father was."

"But did Harper ever find out? And why does Mrs. Goldstein think he killed his half-brother?" Gillian asked.

"Goldstein Sr. told his wife Harper showed up at their doorstep once when he was sixteen, claiming he knew he was his son. Goldstein warned him never to show up there again and like he had done with the mother, he offered the boy money to stay out of his life."

"Stand up bloke, eh?" Cal said sarcastically while Gillian shook her head in disgust.

"Yep. Even though Goldstein said Harper didn't take the money, the widow is convinced the boy was expecting his father to leave him money in his will. She thinks he killed Goldstein Jr. out of revenge when he realized he would get nothing."

"And what do the police think of this?" Cal asked.

"They've found no evidence that indicate Harper is guilty. He has no criminal record and so far as they've gathered from people who know him, he has never displayed any violent behavior. He doesn't have an alibi, though. Says he was home alone at the time of the murder."

"What of his mother, Rachel?"

"She died two years ago. Car crash."

"Seems to me this whole theory the wife has come up with is just the product of misdirected anger. Her husband is dead and she can't punish him for his betrayal, so she's trying to punish the boy instead." Cal postulated, looking at Gillian to see if she agreed.

"It is seems likely." She nodded.

"Well." He said before gulping the last of his drink and throwing the cup in the trashcan as if it was a basketball. He smirked when it landed perfectly inside its target. "Why are we taking this case then, exactly?" He walked towards Loker, stopping far enough so that he wouldn't have to turn his head up to look at the taller man.

"She said she'd pay us six figures." Loker answered, adding quickly when he saw his boss open his mouth to retort. "_And_ the police are having a hard time finding any leads, while the murderer is still out there. We could help catch whoever's responsible."

Cal just stared silently at his employee for a moment before glancing at his partner. Her face said: _Take it_.

"Fine." He said finally, looking back at Loker. "You and Torres talk to the victim's family. Gillian and I will talk to Harper."

The young man nodded and started towards the door.

"And Loker," Cal added before he was gone. "I want those interviews on tape."

* * *

Tom Harper's house was one of the many in a narrow street, each separated from the other only by a couple of feet on either side. All identical, looking like a bunch of grey matchboxes in a row.

They had parked the car around the block, and as they walked to their destination, he saw a few rather unfriendly faces peering down at them from some of the windows. The street itself was deserted, and he instinctively edged himself closer to Gillian. She looked at him with a tiny smile, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing: judging by the neighborhood, the boy's financial situation was far from comfortable and an inheritance would have been welcomed.

Once they arrived at the house, he searched for a doorbell. Finding none, he gave three emphatic knocks on the door and after a minute or two it was opened by a lean, dark-haired, young looking man, no taller than himself.

"Yes?"

"Are you Tom Harper?" Gillian asked.

"Yes…" the man said hesitantly.

"Mr. Harper, I'm Gillian Foster and this is Cal Lightman. We're from the Lightman Group."

A flash of recognition swept over Harper's face.

"Lightman Group? You work as deception experts right?"

"Yes." She nodded. "We're here about Carl Goldstein Jr.'s death. Do you mind answering a few questions?"

"Are you working with the police?"

"No, not exactly." She said, keeping the answer vague. The man was no fool though, and Cal saw his eyebrows draw together as he caught on.

"She hired you, didn't she?" He asked. "Mrs. Goldstein."

"Yeah." Cal answered. "But our job is to find the truth, so if ya're innocent of the crime she's accusin' ya of, we can help ya."

Harper looked at Cal and then back at Gillian, who gave him a slight nod of encouragement.

"Come on in, then."

The lack of furniture in the small living room was compensated by the innumerous photographs pinned on the walls. Some were black and white and some were full of color. A few showed city landscapes, but mostly they were candid images of people, their emotions captured artistically by the photographer.

"These are beautiful." Gillian said softly. "Did you take them?"

"Yes. I'm a professional photographer." Harper replied as he pulled up a chair from a corner of the room. He placed it in front of the sofa and motioned for them to sit down.

"We were told ya worked as an attendant in a bookstore."

"That's what pays the bills."

Cal sloughed down beside Gillian, one arm stretched behind her, resting on the back of the couch. He stared intently at the young man sitting opposite him.

"So, Mr. Harper…" Gillian started. "How did you find out Carl Goldstein Sr. was your father?"

"My mother told me when I was sixteen. I had been asking her who my dad was for years, but she would always tell me it didn't matter, he didn't want to be part of our lives. It was only when I started going to every person we knew with questions that she gave in and told me his name. She warned me not to go looking for him, but I didn't listen. I felt I needed to meet the man who had cast us aside so easily."

"So you went to see him."

"Yeah. You can imagine he wasn't at all happy to see me. Said he shouldn't have trusted my mother to keep her mouth shut and told me never to come near him or his _family_ again."

"He offered you money in exchange for your silence."

Harper nodded, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

"Did you take it?"

"Of course not!" He said angrily. "The jackass had left me. I wasn't going to let him bribe me as well."

"And you never contacted him again? Or your siblings?"

"No. I often thought about going to his wife and telling her everything, but I never did."

"Why not?" Cal asked, breaking his silence for the first time. The young man looked at him, his face turning from angry to sad.

"Because… it would change nothing for me, but it would wreck innocent people's lives. My brother and sister would have had their family torn apart only so that I could have some feeling of justice. It wasn't worth it."

They fell silent for a moment, and then Gillian asked: "Before your father died, he confessed everything to his wife and their children. Did any of them tried to contact you?"

"Mrs. Goldstein came to the bookstore one day. I had seen her picture on the internet when I was looking my father up, so I recognized her when she came in. She must have sensed who I was, because as soon as I started walking towards her she turned around and left." He sighed. "As far as I know, neither my brother nor sister tried to reach out to me."

"Mrs. Goldstein is under the impression ya expected your father to leave ya money in his will." Cal said.

"She's wrong. From the moment I met him seven years ago I was certain I could expect nothing from the man."

"Ya don't think ya deserve some of his money, though? I mean, ya _are_ his son."

"I deserved a _father_!" Harper replied, his tone angry again.

"Yeah, yeah." Cal waved his hand dismissively. "But the man's dead, so that's a moot point. What I'm askin' ya is: don't ya think ya deserved to get somethin'? Doesn't it piss ya off that your father left everythin' to his legitimate children and ignored his bastard son?"

That earned Cal a glare from Gillian.

"You mean does it piss me off enough to make me kill my own brother?"

"Well, did ya?" Cal asked, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes, mouth slightly open as he focused on Harper's face.

"No, I didn't." The man answered simply.

Three heartbeats passed and Cal said nothing, eyes flickering furiously. Suddenly he jumped up and announced: "I believe ya."

"Oh." Harper seemed surprised that his answer was so easily accepted. He got up slowly from his seat. "Will you tell Mrs. Goldstein that?"

"Yes." Gillian answered. "We'll tell her. And the police."

"Thank you." The young man said genuinely.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Harper."

* * *

Once outside, he hooked his arm around her waist and began leading them back to the car.

"Did ya see the lip pout when ya asked if he took the money his father offered him?"

"Yeah." She mimicked his motion so that they were now firmly joined on one side. "And then again when you asked if he had killed his brother."

"He seemed genuinely offended by the idea."

"Yes. He is innocent." She agreed. "The question now is: who did kill Goldstein Jr.?"


	7. Chapter 6

**Surprise! Two chapters on the same day!**

* * *

They were greeted by Heidi at the front desk.

"Dr. Lightman, Dr. Foster." The girl said pleasantly. "Torres asked me to tell you she and Loker are waiting for you in the lab."

"Thanks, luv." They both smiled at her, going straight to find their employees.

"What have ya got?" Cal asked before either of the two people sitting in front of the computer had time to fully turn around upon hearing the door open.

"Nothing new from Mrs. Goldstein." Said Loker. "No deviations from the story she told me the first time. There were no signs of deception. She really believes Tom Harper is responsible for her son's death."

"Nothing from Goldstein Jr.'s wife, Gabrielle, either." Torres continued. "She showed genuine signs of grief and seemed truly distraught for her daughter having to grow up without a father."

"They have a daughter?" Gillian asked.

"Yeah, a three year-old." Torres answered. "When we asked her if she agreed with her mother-in-law about Harper being the murderer, she told us that although she thought it was a possibility, she had no reason to believe it was the only one."

Loker spoke again: "She was at a loss to explain why her husband was at that bar on the night of the murder. According to her, he didn't usually go to bars let alone one so far away from their home. And as far as she knows, there's no one who would wish him any harm."

"What about the sister Sarah?" Asked Cal.

"Ah! That's where it gets interesting." Eli said, turning to type on a keyboard.

"She was definitely hiding something." Torres explained while they waited for him to pull up the video. "There."

_"Do you believe Tom Harper killed your brother?"__  
__"I don't know..." The girl said, shaking her head. "I've never met him. I have no idea what kind of man he is, or what his feelings were towards Carl."__  
__"Can you think of anyone who would wish to harm him?"__  
__"... No." She shook her head.__  
__"Are you sure?"__  
__"Yes. Yes, I'm sure."_

"Did you see that?" Torres asked, leaning forward and rewinding the recording a few seconds. "Right there. Her eyes flutter before she denies knowing anyone that could possibly want to harm her brother."

"Yeah. And there." Cal said, pointing to the screen. "Shoulder shrug when she answered the next question. She is _lyin'_." He licked his lips, exposing his teeth in a predatory manner.

"Ya two!" He snapped, alternately pointing from Torres to Loker. "Bring her in. And ya!" He turned, pointing to Gillian. "Time for lunch?"

* * *

An hour and a half later they were walking into the interview room. Sarah Goldstein was already seated inside the Cube.

"Just try it, Cal!"

"Not a bloody chance!" He said vehemently, stepping away from the spoon she held in mid-air. "The thing's called _Oreo dirt cup_, for God's sake! Doesn't the word _dirt_ in a food's name tell ya somethin'?"

"It's the Oreo part that's relevant, Cal." She replied before bringing the spoon to her mouth and finishing the last of the pudding. With a satisfied smile, she threw the plastic cup in the wastebasket. He watched transfixed as she licked her lips, walking towards him.

"You ready?"

His eyes darted back up, registering her amused expression as she looked at him, knowing exactly where his thoughts had been. "Right." He said shortly, already heading to open the Cube's door.

"Miss Goldstein, I'm Doctor Lightman and this is Doctor Foster. Thanks for comin' in."

The young woman nodded at them with a polite smile.

"Miss Torres told me you needed to ask me something important?" She voiced the sentence as a question.

"Yeah." He said, taking a seat opposite her across the table. He leaned forward on his elbows and grasped his hands together before asking bluntly: "Why did ya lie to us?"

"Excuse me?" Her face showed surprise and fear.

"Look, someone did explain to ya what we do, right? So let's just skip the whole act where ya pretend not to know what we're talkin' about and go straight to ya tellin' us whatever it is ya're hiddin'."

She looked away from them, clearly anxious, rubbing one hand with the other in a classic comforting gesture.

"Did ya kill your brother?"

"What?! No!" Sarah exclaimed.

"See, _that…_" He pointed at her face. "That is the truth."

"Do you know who did it?" Gillian asked.

"No, I don't." She then added in a pleading tone: "I mean… I don't know!"

The partners remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"About half a year ago I found out Carl was having an affair." She sighed. "I couldn't believe he would do that to Gabrielle, to their daughter. I was angry with him but he promised he'd end it and begged me not to tell anyone. So I didn't."

She paused for a moment, shaking her head before continuing. "A few months later I discovered he was still seeing her. We argued, and for a while after that I refused to talk to him. But then dad got worse, and just before he died he confessed his affair to us. Carl came to me that night, crying, saying he didn't want to make the same mistakes as our father. He didn't want to cause his wife and daughter the same pain our mom and us were feeling. He told me he was truly going to end it this time."

"And you believed him?" Gillian asked.

"Yes."

"And this woman he was having the affair with." Cal said. "Ya think maybe she wasn't happy when he told her they were done. Maybe she got jealous, and angry… and ended up killing your brother."

Sarah looked down at her hands. "Carl told me they never went anywhere there was a chance he would have been recognized. They usually went places far away in the city." Her voice was almost a whisper. "There was no reason for him to be at that bar."

"Do you know the woman's name? What she looks like?" Gillian questioned.

"I think her first name was Ashley. But I never saw her."

* * *

For the second time that day they were entering a stranger's house, only this one had an ornate doorbell and better qualified as a mansion. The maid who answered the door led them to a bright sitting room, in the middle of which stood a beautiful blonde dressed all in black.

"Dr. Lightman, Dr. Foster." She said walking up to them and extending her hand in greeting. "Is there a problem? Did you find out anything?"

"Yeah." Cal answered. "Do ya mind if we sit down?"

"Yes, of course! Please, sit down." She pointed at the sofa and sat herself in the armchair next to it.

Cal was about to start speaking when they heard light footsteps running towards the room and a small girl came in shouting: "Mommy! Mommy!"

The child bumped into her mother's leg, hugging it with one arm to steady herself. A piece of paper clutched tightly on her other hand, she fell silent upon seeing the two unfamiliar adults in front of her.

"Maddie, mommy is busy right now." Gabrielle said, brushing her daughter's hair with her fingers. "Why don't you go back to your room and I'll be there soon so you can show me your drawing?"

The little girl just continued to stare at them with wide eyes, apparently not having paid attention to what her mother had just said.

"Hey." Gillian offered with a smile. "I'm Gill."

"I'm Maddie." The girl replied shyly.

"Nice to meet you, Maddie."

"Baby…" Gabrielle waited for the child to look at her. "Go up to your room. I'll be there soon, ok?" This time Maddie nodded at her mother and hurried away.

"She's beautiful." Gillian said.

"Thank you. She looks a lot like her father." Gabrielle's face turned sad at the mentioning of her husband.

"Mrs. Goldstein." Cal spoke, treading carefully. "We've found out some information and we need to ask ya some questions."

"Yes?" The woman replied.

He let Gillian continue. "Were you aware that your husband was having an affair?"

"What?!" Gabrielle exclaimed in genuine shock. Clearly she hadn't known.

"He was having an affair with a woman named Ashley. We're not sure for how long it had been going on, but we believe he ended it when his father passed away."

"How… how do you know this?"

"Sarah found out about it. She kept it a secret until now, but she believes the woman may be the one responsible for your husband's death."

They watched as a series of emotions flashed through Gabrielle's face: disbelief, confusion, anger, hurt.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Goldstein." Gillian said in a sympathetic voice. "Do you have any clue as to who this woman might be?"

It took her a moment before she answered. "No… No, I'm sorry…" She stood up. "You'll have to excuse me, I… I must go to my daughter. I'll call the maid and she'll see you out." Without waiting for them to respond, she turned around and left the room.

* * *

After leaving the Goldstein's residence, she had volunteered to go tell the police what they had discovered while Cal went to the airport to pick up Emily, who was returning from visiting her mother in Chicago.

The detective in charge thanked her for the information but otherwise seemed skeptic about the work The Lightman Group did. He made it clear that the woman Ashley would now be considered a suspect, and that being said, when the police found out who and where she was, he would not be at liberty to share that info with her.

Although Cal had Torres and Loker looking into Goldstein Jr.'s life, not having the detective's cooperation could potentially make their job more difficult. Looking around the familiar station, an idea occurred to her. She didn't like it in the least, but this was about catching a murderer and she wasn't going to let her personal feelings interfere with that.

Sitting behind a nearby desk was a young woman in uniform, reading intently from a file she had in front of her. Gillian approached her expectantly.

"Excuse me. Do you know if Detective Wallowski is in today?"

The woman looked up at her, an indifferent expression on her face. "Detective Wallowski doesn't work for the MPDC anymore."

"What?" Gillian asked surprised. "Since when?"

"'Bout a month. She got offered a job in California. Better position, better pay and closer to family, so she went." The cop looked particularly displeased by the information she had just shared.

"You don't seem very happy about that." Gillian stated. "Did you want the job yourself?"

The woman raised an eyebrow indicating she thought this was none of Gillian's business. When the latter continued to stare at her, she answered: "Look, I had no interest in that job. Nobody here even knew it existed until they offered it to Wallowski." She frowned. "But I know a good many cops that deserved the opportunity a lot more than she did."

As an indication that the conversation was over, the woman turned her attention back to the file she had been reading. Gillian offered a polite "Thank you" before beginning to navigate her way to exit the station.

"'_Bout a month."  
"Nobody here even knew it existed until they offered it to Wallowski."_

The words echoed in her mind. The timing could not be a coincidence. Gillian suspected she knew exactly how come the dirty cop had been offered a new job.


End file.
